


Flight(less) of Fancy

by TheYeeteor (Greeneggsyeet)



Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greeneggsyeet/pseuds/TheYeeteor
Summary: After being entrusted with the Legendary Feather of the Crystal Falcon, Skipper still has enough gusto for another high-stakes quest. When nobody else wants to join him, he must look for help in lofty places. What happens if there are too many emotions left unaccounted for?This story takes place right after the Penguins of Madagascar episode: Treasure of the Golden Squirrel.
Relationships: Kitka/Skipper (Madagascar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. For Your Eyes Only

This story takes place directly from the ending of the Penguins of Madagascar episode: Treasure of the Golden Squirrel. The first three lines of dialogue and descriptions are taken from the show's transcript, as I continue writing from there. Without further _adieu_!

* * *

Previously on Penguins of Madagascar:

...

“Ooh, I’m in. Who can say no to a mystical quest?” Skipper held the legendary feather of the crystal falcon in his flippers as he looked the shimmery translucent object over. “Private, I’ll need you to… Private?” He glanced around while Private waddled off.

“Hey, wait. Hey, where you going?” Skipper pleaded. The group of friends who had just helped the leader with the Lost Treasure of the Golden Squirrel were dispersing, tired, and not in the mood for another quest. Globetrotting escapade it might be, that sounded exhausting… not to mention those ruthless villains nobody felt like dealing with now.

“This isn’t the ending anymore! Come on, it’s the beginning now.” The commando commander slumped over onto his belly as the last of the group left the juice bar at the lemur habitat. Although disheartened, this new mystery had fallen right into his flippers, and he just couldn’t resist. “Alright, I see how it is…” Getting up, he resolved to solve this puzzle, even if it meant going solo.

“I need to make my own options.” He kept talking to himself, so used to addressing a team. Looking around to make sure nobody was actually listening, he started running a flipper down the length of the pearlescent relic. “Feather… falcon… crystal… _Crystal Falcon…_ ” 

It hit him like a ton of diamonds, and he slid off to the only civilians he could think of to help with deciphering the first step in this epic. Checking for signs of humans, particularly Alice, he made his way into the reptile house.

As soon as he was snatched up by the stickiest tongues in the creepy dank darkness, he knew that he was in good forked hands. The chameleons started flashing colors as a greeting, before vocalizing their joy at seeing the flightless bird in their home again.

“ _Laaaaah_ ” The lizard pointed both of its odd eyes at the penguin, flashing from green to red to pink and blue.

“Hey, uh… you!” Skipper avoided revealing that he still didn’t know any of their names by now, but as more of them approached and flashed new colors the bird regretted not asking Maurice to come with him to translate.

“ _Diiiing Doooong_.” The chameleons sang the little chorus they had learned, waiting to see what Skipper had come for. After a small pause in their flashing colors, the bird pulled out the crystal feather again.

“I need intel on this feather. I figured you all were the experts on blending in…” A chameleon came to start crawling up towards the feather in his flippers, only to be smoothed away by the slick on his side. He lifted his arms up a bit, still suspicious of anyone after the near-death experience caused by the Golden Squirrel’s curse.

Oh no… could _this feather_ be a cursed artifact!?

In his brief sanity slip, the chameleons were able to snatch the feather away with a lunge of the tongue long enough to see what it was and try to figure out how it worked. In an instant, the chameleons attempted to change into its pigmentation, to no avail.

They could easily blend in and appear invisible with the colors of their surroundings, but as one walked behind another, it proved that they were not actually able to become translucent like the feather Skipper had brought to them.

“Hmm… It looks like I’ll need to find more information.” The solo leader put a flipper to his beak bottom, as the chameleons gazed at the feather, starting to figure out what he needed to do. “I could always go visit a library, but without Kowalski, I’m useless when it comes to siphoning information from picture books.” It was too bad he couldn’t siphon intel from books the old fashioned way: brute force.

“ _Baaaah._ ” One of the lizard onlookers brought the other creatures in the habitat to Skipper’s attention. They had been linking their tongues into the rough shape of a falcon silhouette as a way to communicate their idea to the slightly daft penguin chief.

“A herring?” Skipper tried to make sense of their odd shape, his hunger overriding his mind as he struggled to communicate. Shaking his head, he waddled over to snatch the legendary item back from those who had taken it for benign purposes. “I’ll take this falcon feather back to HQ and-“

As the second revelation hit him like a secondary ton of diamonds, he realized the connection to the Legendary Feather of the Crystal _Falcon._

_“Of course!_ ” The commando man chided himself, as the chameleons shared looks at each other twice over with their monocular vision. “I have a lead! Miss Kitka! She’s a falcon, and I know exactly where to find her.”

The lizards finally let their perfect silhouette of the bird drop, now stuck with the arduous task of untangling their sticky tongues while the penguin they helped slipped away. Barry, the dart frog in the sealed habitat to their right, gave a muffled ribbit of solidarity as an attempt to warm up to the lizards enough to plot a new escape… soon.

When Skipper got back to HQ, he found his three men performing their daily duties diligently. A scientist testing new weaponry on their susceptible sergeant, and a cute and cuddly chap making absolutely sure their new safety guidelines were up to snuff in case of a catastrophe with aforementioned new weaponry. 

Rico was too busy being singed by the 3 step process to take notice of his Captain taking a gander at a few of the weapons on the rack that flipped out from the wall. When their leader picked up the new state of the art grappling hook, Private questioned him.

“Is it time for our wall-scaling training already?” The British penguin closed the safety manual, keeping a flipper inside to hold his place in the visual guide.

“Oh, no.” Skipper put the hook behind his back, immediately raising Kowalski’s suspicions as the scientist turned to face him, leaving Rico in the aim for repeated blasts without the supervisor’s focus.

“I’ll have you know the grappling hooks have been improved, along with several of our weapons, to be a-hundred-and-twenty-five percent more effective during missions.” He lifted off his welder’s visor to raise a brow. Adding a bit of depth to his tone, he continued. “It also allows each of us to look three-hundred percent more fetching when rescuing _the ladies_.”

“ _What ladies_? I’m not seeing any ladies!” Skipper could have dropped the hook right then, but fumbled slightly instead, regaining his bearings as his teammates watched him closely. Kowalski hit the weapon shut off valve, freeing Rico, before Private set down the safety manual.

“Oh golly, I think he meant ladies in general, around the zoo.” Private put his flippers over his belly gently and bowed his head. “You know, Marlene and… well, there aren’t many others.”

“Right! Right, that is correct.” Skipper puffed out, taking a breath to calm down. As he brought the gun around to his front, the feather he had been entrusted floated to the floor next to him, its shimmer catching Private’s private eyes.

“What’s this?” Coming forth to investigate, he lifted the object high. In an instant, Skipper slapped it away and caught it, holding it for his own. Those ancient riches were all his, no matter what the cost.

“Classified.” He nodded at the first-class Private before his second lieutenant shut off the switch to give Rico a break before walking over to see what was so top-secret. After all, he was the most trusted advisor and second in command. What was classified for Private was almost never out of his rank to know.

“Do you need me to run some tests or…?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” The captain held the hook close to hide the feather and waddled through those two over to Rico who scratched his side that was now radiating with some sort of energy. “Rico, I need a few smoke bombs and a ‘New York welcome’ for the road.”

“Okay.” Rico chuffed, shaking his head before heaving up the requested items: three smoke bombs, a stick of dynamite, crowbar, sextant, and an eyepatch. Skipper patted his back for a job well done, while Kowalski and Private shared a worried look.

“Sir, are you heading somewhere?” The genius was having trouble determining the cause for the sudden mission but knew that Skipper sometimes left for days on end for official business.

“I am.” He looked at the three, Rico already curling up in anticipation of his departure, sad at his Captain for going alone. “I’ll be heading to an _undisclosed_ building in midtown.”

“A building?” Private piped up, questioning once more.

“Building? I didn’t say building.” Skipper was off his game today. Must have been the exhaustion from the first mission…

“I believe you did indeed say building and that gives me cause for-“ Kowalski started coughing due to the sudden smoke bomb the leader used against his own men. “…concern.”

When the smoke cleared, all that remained was the rattle of the freshly shut hatch as Skipper made a rucksack for his goods and began to make his way to the consolidated amalgamated building in midtown, leaving three confused birds in his wake.

“Gosh, what do you think has him in such a… _mood_ this morning?” Private asked his partners.

“Idunno.” Rico raised his flippers, as Kowalski took out a magnifying glass to search for clues. Finding what seemed to be a tiny shard of glass, he picked it up with tweezers before placing it in a small vial.

“I’ll hold onto this for safekeeping.” He stowed away the vial, turning to see the other two birds giving him disgruntled looks. “What? I’m not acting against orders! Just… keeping this odd bit of scrap material that seemed to come off of whatever Skipper didn’t want us to see.”

Private shook his head, deciding it was high time to take the load off and enjoy some chocolate and Lunacorns while the Captain was away. Rico kept poking his now glowing feathers, leaving for the garage, as Kowalski tried to reason with them as they waddled away.

“Hey! We still have work to do!” He waved his flippers. “Rico, I’m not done with the tests yet! Private! _I’m_ the acting commanding officer now!”

The scene panned upwards, from the lonely lieutenant, through the hatch, and outside the zoo walls. Skipper was determined, remembering their grand heist to clear Kitka’s name. When he finally made it to the building, he decided to take the time to go in through the turnstile, and find a fire stairway to get him that much closer to the lofty roof.

Taking the hook out of his rucksack, he tied the feather tightly in the knot when repositioning his tools. Looking out, he avoided making eye contact with the ground, and his natural camouflage came out to play as people looking up or down couldn’t see his silhouette against the bright sky or dark pavement below.

Timing his aim right, he slid out of the window, firing the hook to the perfect location for scaling the building undetected. It was rough, making his way up, and by the time he was mere feet from the top, he was panting. That extra chunkiness he had put on over the last few fish missions was getting to him.

In a few moments, he had put himself together, puffing up and smoothing his flat head to make a good second impression. With the most grace he could muster, Skipper did a flip while unlatching the hook, slipping it in his tool bag swiftly, landing in the perfect superman pose.

All his self-assurance dissipated when he saw the falcons crooning and flapping their wings together. Specifically seeing how large and intimidating those broad wings were… he could barely see past them and didn’t think he’d want to.

“Miss… Kitka?” He managed to whimper out her name, but only got the attention of two unknown birds of prey.

“What are you doing up here?” The male turned, flapping his wings, and Skipper could have laid an egg.

“Uhh… I was just, looking for someone-”

“Kitka?” The female rose up, shaking her feathers to return them to a more refined appearance.

“Don’t say her name.” The male brought his wing in, glaring over his shoulder to his mate.

“Don’t speak to me like that.” She lashed out, viciously. Looking to the little penguin who kept his distance, her gaze softened. “Kitka… doesn’t live here anymore since her fight with-“

“I told you not to say her name!” The male was still sore from losing to… “Wait a minute!” He turned back, approaching Skipper, who looked at the large talons and took notice of the rope scars on the falcon’s ankle.“I remember you.”

“You… do?” Skipper tried to keep a commando profile, never letting people outside of the zoo remember him, even if that hadn’t worked out with Kitka, Mother Duck, or even Fred.

“Yeah, buddy. I still have a headache from your weight slamming me into that air duct!” He gestured to the vent that let out from the rooftop, and Skipper recalled their in-flight fight from a few months ago.

“Run!” The female falcon pleaded with Skipper, knowing her counterpart had a temper. She shouted, doing her best to help. “Kitka went uptown for better pickings from north central park!”

Right before the male could swipe with his talons, the penguin leaped up and over, giving a nod of thanks to the female before aiming for the bendable horizontal flag posts on the building’s first floor. The male watched the penguin dive and leap away, heading for central park, and decided to perch and huff at the plump perpetrator that had ruined his eighth relationship.

“Stay away from my nest, punk!” He shrugged his wings up before the woman in the nest perked up in anger.

“ _Your_ nest!?”

Skipper was lucky, then, for more than one reason. He escaped both a mauling and stayed on the outskirts of another lover’s quarrel. At that, he sighed, making his way toward uptown Manhattan, wondering how he was going to explain everything to Kitka.


	2. The Penguin with the Crystal Feather

The fearless penguin sauntered for a while as he shook off that daring escape. Not just any penguin could jump off the edge of a building and dodge the talons of an angry rival. 

When his webbed feet stopped slapping the concrete sidewalk and started mushing through the damp grass in the park, he felt a new wave of energy course through his veins. A dash of charm flowed up as he slipped into a slide to glide on the sun-warmed lawn.

North central park… so that was where Kitka had flown off to. His body, designed for quickly tobogganing across snow, made easy work of cutting the distance and travel time down. It also helped that he flouted those un-readable signs that warned humans to stay off of the grass.

Before mid-morning he had managed to cross the halfway mark, rounding past the back of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and prepared to dart through the Reservoir. Surfacing on the other side, he dodged cyclists and carriages on the transverse road before making it to the sanctity of the North Meadow.

He laid back, taking a break after his unexpected triathlon. Breaks like this were against his own regulations… for good reason. The second the penguin commander sought to rest, he had no sooner attracted the attention of a grizzly band of marauders.

Skipper rolled, barely missing the arrows that lined up with where his face, chest, and belly had been milliseconds ago. Taking a quick glance to catch his knapsack of tools, he started scrambling to unfurl the wrap to get to his crowbar for a weapon, or at least a smoke bomb to stealthily sneak away.

It was no use, he had tied the knot a bit too tight in his effort to secure the crystal feather. It glinted, catching the attention of a gnarly looking possum who lifted his eyepatch to gaze at it with both of his good eyes.

“There it is, lads.” The thick Scottish accent caught Skipper’s attention. A Scotts' possum in central park? Well, weirder things had happened… but this was a wake-up call for the chief of the penguins. He would need to keep the feather tucked well out of sight from here on out.

He was being surrounded in the small field, possums coming out from every corner to ensnare the bird from every direction. With a quick scan of his foes, Skipper could see their weaponry was hemmed and finished with feathers… like badges from their victories.

The fearless leader thought fast, yanking an arrow up from the ground nearby, and snagging the loose elastic from the cloth he had fastened around his currently unobtainable tools. He aimed an arrow at the promenading possum, the elastic laced through his feet as he pulled back with his flippers to use his own body as a makeshift bow.

“This is going to hurt…” Skipper winced, before moving his aim 45 degrees up to account for drag with such a lousy weapon. Still, it was his best chance at making an opening to escape.

With a snap, he watched as the arrow barely flew ten feet in front of him. The pain distracted him until he turned to see the possum’s group closing in from his sides and back. Never backing down from a fight, he got up with enough time to start wrestling one of them for dominance over the stick that held his supplies, and most importantly, the feather of legend.

Everything changed when a screech from above caught everyone’s attention. The marsupial let go, causing Skipper to fall back, clutching his goods as he searched the skies.

The crimson feathers he saw, gorgeous against the blue sky, were the answer to his predicament. There was no mistaking her elegant dive, her wings leaving contrails in his mind as slow-motion kicked in, and when her pose shifted to aim her sharp talons at the Scottsman he swooned.

Well, he would have swooned if he hadn’t already been laying on the ground…

Rather, the words she screamed at those ‘possums who had been interrupting her late morning hunt faded away once he heard the accented scream of the antagonist.

“Retreat! Every man for himself!” They started scurrying away into the shadows of the trees. Kitka did one last pass over the meadow with her birds-eye view. After the hairless tails her falcon eyes could see disappeared into the distance, she shifted her notice to the penguin laying about below.

He couldn’t stop smiling, and his mind seemed to be locked in slow motion still as he enjoyed the feeling of resting in the flowers. Perhaps he was off his game, but when such a sensation felt so sweet, he would gladly take the fall for her again.

“Skipper!?” Kitka had landed, gently flapping her wings to give him some much-needed fresh air.

“Mmm… yes?” He gazed up at her with half-lidded eyes, lovestruck.

“Are you alright?” She backed off a little, wondering if the copious amounts of pollen were getting to the penguin. “What are you doing all the way up here?”

“Miss Kitka…” He kept drawling out his words, trying to make his intonations smooth. It only took one more odd glance from the glorious bird above him to bring him to his senses. “Oh, Miss Kitka!”

He got up swiftly then, swiping some pollen off of himself before trying to play off their sudden encounter.

“I see your wing is okay.” The captain rubbed the back of his head, wondering if there was a hidden rock down there to cause him to babble.

“Yes.” She awkwardly shimmied her wings, stretching them after seeing his gaze staring towards the one that had been broken. “But… are _you_ hurt at all?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” Skipper put his flippers on his hips, trying to make himself bigger as she watched him for any side effects from the fight she had witnessed.

“Then…” She reiterated her question. “What are you doing up here? Where is the rest of your team?”

Skipper tried to act as nonchalant as possible, picking up the elastic that he noticed nearby.

“I was looking for you.” He admitted, before starting to search for the knapsack. If those bandits had made off with it-

“You were looking for me? I don’t understand.“ She tilted her head as if to examine prey. “I thought that you said we should _see other people_ …”

“Oh!” He was thrown off in his search but rose up to address her properly. “That’s not the only reason I was looking for you. Actually, there was something important…” He started searching again.

“Something _more_ important than how you broke up with me?” She narrowed her eyes, wondering why her old flame had made his way such a distance only to seem more intrigued by grass. 

“I didn’t mean that!” Skipper wasn’t used to being flustered, but his divided attention was making him panic a bit at the prospect that he was ruining his second impression.

“Look, I don’t have much time. I need to get back to my morning hunt and it seems you have your own… issues.” She started flapping her wings impatiently, and the penguin tried not to cringe at the mention of her hunt. After all, her choice of live neighborly prey was the main deal-breaker in their past romance.

“Miss Kitka, wait!” Skipper had stopped rummaging around in the grass, lifting his flippers up to assure her that his whole attention was on her. “I need your help.”

“ _My_ help?” She scoffed a little. “I thought you had an entire team. If I recall correctly, they didn’t take too kindly to me being around at all.”

“Please, just hear me out.” He felt an ache start in his heart, the same that took so long to remedy after their interlude was interrupted. Feeling the stick he had used, he was able to kick his rucksack up to hold in his flippers.

Zooming into the feather as a bit of sunlight caught in its sparkling fringe, the meadow fades into a covered archway, both birds obscured in shadow near the conservatory garden. The hushed voice of the commander barely echoed as he leaned towards Kitka.

“This… is the Legendary Feather of the Crystal Falcon.” He held it out, deftly tucking it between his flippers to prevent the wind from taking it away. Kitka gasped softly, recognizing it.

“I know…” She was stunned to see it before her own eyes, the way it glistened calling back memories of home before she left the nest. “It isn’t just a _little eyas_ _story_.”

Skipper smiled, shifting his stare from the feather to Kitka, her eyes radiating while looking upon the treasure. He hadn’t felt so giddy in a long time, and seeing her now made him wonder what had happened that was all that bad.

Just when he let his guard down again, the woman next to him reminded him of their current state of affairs.

“Skipper… this seems dangerous.” She was wary, remembering the parts of the story that were nightmare fuel for those still growing in the nest… serving as a warning to falcon parents too. “I have a lot of hunting to do before I get back to the nest and-“

“Nest!?” His voice echoed softly, the tunnel looping it around to remind him to quiet down. “You… have eggs? A mate to get home to?”

“What?” She took note of his change in demeanor at the thought of her having moved on so fast. He had said to see other people, yet he was fearing that very idea? Shaking her head, she put his mind at ease for the next minute. “No. There aren’t any eggs yet.”

Skipper had lowered the feather, looking at her with an open beak, but unable to say a word.

“I still live alone.” Kitka shrugged a little, the large muscles that worked to lift her high into the air doubling as a little wall between this penguin and her heart. With the final say on this matter, she gave him a few more words of warning before he ended up getting carried away again. “I’m also still a hunter.”

“Hunter…” The flat-headed bird looked around at the cracks in the stones while collecting his mind enough to question the thieves he had been accosted by. “Those possums, they were wearing falcon feathers on their weapons!”

“Yes, but I don’t see how _that_ changes anything.” Kitka was astonished. “Those glorified rats have been the only problem with my move to get further away from the zoo.”

“Further away?” Skipper reeled back from the edge of a breakthrough, his emotions already getting in the way of this daring quest. “You left because of me?”

“No!” She glared for a second, before holding her anger back at how close to the truth the penguin was. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t feasting on any of your friends. Not even the squirrels...”

“I see.” The captain held the feather closer, wondering if it offered any consolation as part of its magical powers. If only he was able to see people with good intentions more often, like Private. That little wonder of a penguin could befriend a leopard seal, and here he was as commander unable to see the selflessness in Kitka’s actions.

“Besides, it would have been for the best if you hadn’t come up here.” The falcon spoke without thinking but realized her wording had been wrong too late. “Not that I _wasn’t_ happy to see you!”

“Miss Kitka, you don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings.” He hung his head, the slanted words making another barrier to nip a blossoming romance in the bud.

“Skipper.” She cooed, his name fading off the walls as the sound of wind gusting through the nearby garden filled in the empty space. “If it means getting back at Clyde and his gang then I want to help.”

“Clyde? That’s their leader’s name?” He registered the new villain into his mental roster of foes.

“Yes. I hear them shouting it almost every night.” It was tough to get any shut-eye, considering her new nest was lower to the ground than the last one.

“Okay.” Skipper hopped up, standing on the ledge in the shade, still shorter than Kitka. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for Clyde and his _lads_ while we search for more clues.”

Kitka perked up at his sudden shift into the leader role, the vigor of a quest propelling him forward into the waters of adventure. Skipper picked up the rucksack, tucking the feather away inside of the pile for safer travels before hoisting it over his shoulder and turning back to her.

“What do you say we take the scenic route?” His suave persona was back in an instant, and he offered a flipper to gesture towards the path to the garden. 

Looking from his smile and following his flipper down to the warm inviting light raking across the pavement, Kitka happily hopped down with him to begin a stroll into their new rendezvous together.


	3. Goldflipper

The falcon and penguin pair wobbled down the pavement, little speckles of stone glimmering in the soft light. Each one seemed to capture their attention and cause the birds to take notice of just how romantic this moment had become. 

Skipper did his best to break the silence, not realizing Kitka had the same sense of comedic timing, leading to a mishmash of their voices as each cawed an opening question.

“You’re doing well otherwise?”“Where did you find the feather?”

Skipper kept his beak shut momentarily, before taking a cautious glance up at her.

“Sorry Miss Kitka, I didn’t quite catch that…” Her question took precedent over his small talk.

“I asked where you found the feather.” She kept her voice low, scanning the bushes. 

“Oh, _I_ didn’t find it.” Skipper admitted, Kitka’s tilted head alerting him to her confusion. “Frankie the pigeon entrusted it to me.”

“Pigeon?” Kitka was a bit shocked, turning her attention back to the penguin after checking for signs of the aforementioned rock doves.

“All I know is that it's a _legendary_ feather and a _story for the ages_ in the making!” Skipper nodded, his excitement about the adventure lifting his spirits and adding a hopeful sparkle to his piercing eyes. Kitka looked away before they could pull her in further.

“Yes… a story.” She thought about it, what she had been told as a child, still in the nest. Her talons scraping the road softly, she began to recite the tale.

“Recall histories and legends as you lay to rest.

Imagine the hidden roost and covered crest.

What awaits is a shining crystal moor coveted by featherless fiends who seek to soar.

The time is just right when the moon diffuses its glow.

Luna and sol eye to eye as we await below.

Find what you need, the greatest boon. 

Such a task must be finished soon.

Where all the world can pass you by, offer your feathers, no tears to dry.

As a reward for their hunt, little falcons come to wish. 

Remember only one will be granted to cherish.”

The rustle of leaves as the gentle wind murmured brought Skipper back to reality after his brief entrancement with her words and the subtle rhythm of her tone.

“Beautiful! I didn’t know you wrote poetry!” He pulled his flippers behind his back, waddling with an impressed look about him.

“I didn’t write it…” Kitka staved off a smile bashful about his compliments and recalling exactly why she loves him-or, had loved, at least… “Thank you anyway, for your kind words.”

The Commando Casanova tapped a flipper on his beak, the detective in him trying to connect the points of each line, drawing strings and pulling threads to find a lead within the lullaby. After a few ideas left him clueless, he turned to her once more.

“What were the first few lines again?”

“They were… Recall histories and legends as you lay to rest…. Imagine the hidden roost and covered crest.” She did her best to recite, caught off guard by the sudden shift in noises around the garden entryway.

“Histories, Legends?” Skipper grasped at the lingering memory of his journey through Central Park and pictured the advertisements of historical artifacts being displayed at the MET. “What about the Art Museum?”

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art?” Kitka confirmed his location.

“Yeah, it’s not too far from here” Skipper nodded in approval.

“I’m not so sure it would be of importance to us.” She stayed skeptical, not considering the first few lines as location hints but instead as a way to get young falcons interested in traditions.

“We can still check it for clues, do a brief perimeter sweep, and-“ Skipper was getting lost in crafting a plan to sneak in when a group of people arriving at the Conservatory Garden snapped him back into stealth mode.

“What?” Kitka was startled at his sudden disappearing act when she saw him peep out of a shrub, the red and pink flowers working to obscure him even further.

“I need to make sure those people _didn’t see anything_.” Moving his flippers in the classic circular motions, he explained his evasive maneuver to the falcon. “A penguin outside the zoo makes people ask questions, puts my team at risk.”

“Understandable.” She flitted up, flying towards a distant tree to perch until the coast was clear.

Skipper was eyeing the footsteps, continuing his mental scheme to breach the museum’s security, when he heard a sudden abrasive voice accompanied by a feathery tap on his flipper.

“ _Hey, buddy_.” A pigeon swiveled its head to eye the plump leader. “What’s the deal with the _falcon_?”

“The falcon?” Skipper shook his head. “You mean Miss Kitka?”

“Whatever you wanna call it.” The dove’s brows furrowed, glimpses of light causing the opalescent sheen of its feathers to shine. “No way Frankie stuck his neck out just so some _penguin punk_ could get a _falcon_ involved.”

“Hey, watch it.” Skipper glared, the pigeon’s eyes narrowing in response.

“No, you _watch it,_ pal.” He bobbed around, a master at keeping a level head, physically. “Legend says the feather is good for one wish. Don’t let it fall into the wrong wings.”

“A wish?” He tried to remember the story but became distracted by the circling motion of the other’s walk cycle.

“News flash: falcons _eat_ pigeons. Imagine what those murderers would do with the sublime power of the legendary feather… let alone the Crystal Falcon itself!” Another pigeon came over from the small group to add to the emphasis of these dire circumstances.

“You let one of them have it: _Boom_. All pigeon kind is reduced to mindless meat snacks for easy pickings.” Upon imagining such a world, there was a discord of balance with pigeons that were less-than-sentient, like the blank gazes of fish.

“I’m sure Kitka had a… big breakfast.” The penguin tried to reason with the small chunky birds.

“We ain’t sticking around to find out.” One of the pigeons waved the others on, the group migrating away from the danger zone. “Don’t ruin this _once-in-a-lifetime_ opportunity for us.”

As the pigeons left, the lonesome leader was left to consider the reasoning behind their pleas. It was, in fact, the main reason his relationship with Kitka just didn’t work out. With a small sigh, he double-checked the pathway for people, before waltzing back out, looking for her.

When she saw him return, her eyes were immediately drawn to his suit-like patterning, standing out against the deep shade of the trees. Returning, she blinked slowly in the light, getting back into the groove of walking with him with a new destination in mind. Soon, he asked her another more important question.

“Kitka, what is it that _you_ want most in this world?”

“What do _I_ want?” She was surprised yet again by his amusing question and thought of all the things she had ever desired in life. “Maybe an elaborate nest… plenty of shade with the perfect view.” Her wish immediately changed, as she extended a wing. “Or, I’d like to be the fastest flyer of the fastest flyers!”

“Good. Yes, that’s good.” Skipper couldn’t believe the pigeons had so easily put thoughts into his head about Kitka using a wish for evil against other birds, but then caught himself thinking of how one-note he thought of mammals and how quickly he had _dumped_ Kitka before.

“What about you?” She nudged his side with her feather tips, taking notice of his contemplative waddling.

“Me? I’ve thought about wishes before but it’s all-“ Skipper suddenly stopped to look around for whatever had made that noise. Kitka heard it, too, and perused the various points of interest to check for signs of danger before asking him about the sound.

“Clyde’s lackeys?” She hushed, taking the cue from the penguin spy to give him one more moment to check. Spotting a pigeon that had made the crackling commotion, Skipper shared a glare before it flew back off.

“No. Just a pigeon.” Skipper pondered their fear, again, before questioning the falcon. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry?” Kitka’s stomach growled on demand. “I was _hunting_ before I rescued you.”

“Right…” He avoided admitting that she had saved his life but instead diverted his gaze to the Reservoir past the meadows. “How about we snatch a few fish?”

“Fish? I haven’t been fishing in a while.” She shrugged her wings up timidly before Skipper raised a brow and smirked.

“ _Don’t worry_ , I can get you quite the catch.” He had a suspicion, as usual, that Kitka wasn’t telling him everything.

With a little mini-montage of their journey to the Reservoir, they enjoyed wading into the flowers, avoided people and possums, and overall had a romantic jaunt that ended in a group of angry bees bringing back bad memories for the penguin chief about a certain hornet’s nest that briefly plagued the Zoo.

As Skipper rushed towards the water, yelling and waving his flippers to slap away the would-bee stingers, Kitka watched nervously from a safe distance. The swarm spoke as a whole, loud enough for the brutish bird to hear them, even underwater.

“Yeah, and stay out!”

Soon, Skipper resurfaced, becoming a buoy for Kitka to instantly recognize and monitor from the vast lake’s shore. He took this opportunity to make up for the goofy encounter with a display of his smoothest fishing tricks.

Diving, porpoising, and sinking lower in a twirl he quickly caught a pair of catfish. With gusto, he leapt higher out of the water, far enough away from land that he felt comfortable performing, knowing her vision would make it more of a solo show for her.

There was, however, one blonde man in a business suit talking on a cellphone from a kayak who witnessed the penguin’s unbelievable feats. “No, Rodney, _today_ was the company fishing trip.” With a shrug, the former kazoo kid left well enough alone.

Skipper, knowing how close of a call that was, returned to the depths, his camouflage working wonders to surprise Kitka with one last jump from the water.

Here, in the thrush near the water, a rare quiet location in such a populated park permitted the peregrine and her penguin to dine in peace. Skipper gave her the lion’s share since there were plenty of snacks back in HQ, and he knew Kowalski always had a plan for securing extra from fish truck heists.

This small outlet, overlooking the water, was also a secret amphitheater. The duo discovered this when a musician playing above filled the alcove with a sweet symphony, and the commander offered a flipper, quickly spinning the huntress into an impromptu dance.

“I guess you’re my _catch of the day_.” Skipper rethought dipping her, instead choosing to lean into his romantic dialogue, prompting a giggle from Kitka.

“Skipper…” She trailed off, getting lost in his eyes for the second time that morning. Before she knew it, their beaks were barely touching.

The music stopped.

Finally, she pulled away, and the short penguin remembered how much she towered over him.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go through all the motions again.” She confessed, flapping her wings slowly to stretch before bottling up her emotions with their span as they folded away, obscuring the disheartened captain from her peripheral vision.

“It was the heat of the moment.” Skipper gave their almost-kiss an alibi, before quickly switching the subject. “We should move forward with the quest, while there is still daylight.”

_Passion, too_. He thought, watching Kitka walk ahead, a new direction to set off for the MET. The idea of adventure with treasures abound took a backseat to his worry for the falcon, and he knew it was up to him to make things right.

…and to think up a plan on getting them in and out of a bustling Metropolitan Museum.


End file.
